


The River

by ideserveyou



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Angst, Battle, Diplomacy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Slash, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:34:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/ideserveyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kai is washed away in the flooded river and it's a long way home again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adversaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Cold is the water_
> 
>  _It freezes your already cold mind..._

‘No!’

Arthur bangs his mug down on the table. ‘Whether these reports turn out to be true or no more substantial than marshlights, we have to take them seriously. You say people will think me a fool if I tighten up our defences for nothing. So be it. I’d rather be thought a fool than be left with no people to think it.’

‘But it’s not even spring yet,’ Kai objects. ‘No Saxon leader would even think about bringing longships over the sea through the winter storms. It’s too early to go troubling everyone, especially after the winter we’ve just had…’

It has indeed been a bad winter. The snow and ice, which had already been frozen solid for weeks by Yuletide, has only just melted, leaving mud and fallen trees in its wake, swelling all the little rivers to impassable torrents. And now it is raining; has been raining solidly for three days, until the yard is ankle-deep in sludge and it feels as though nothing in the village will ever be dry again.

The rumble of thunder outside does nothing to dispel the gloom in the longhouse.  
It’s long after midnight but Arthur and Kai are still in tense discussion about the tales brought back by their spies, who have managed to struggle through the muck and mire to and from the port for the first time in many weeks.

One such story could perhaps be ignored, but two or three informants have reported the same rumour from different sources among the traders and shipmasters newly arrived in the drinking houses: a big Saxon invasion fleet on its way, unseasonably early.

Arthur is worried; and he is even considering trying again to make peace with Cerdig and their Saxon neighbours, who will also be under threat.

Kai has been doing his best all evening to play down the reports and persuade Arthur that such an attempt would be useless anyway – that Cerdig will simply view it as a sign of weakness. But his reasoning, although it reflects the mood prevailing in the village, has more behind it than he is admitting.

The last time they tried to make a treaty with Cerdig, on neutral ground, was bad enough. Just seeing that portly, greying, red-faced Saxon with his clever, knowing eyes… The evil memories made Kai’s stomach heave. He barely managed to conceal his loathing and fear, to be civil to the Saxons while they were all Yorath’s guests.

And now Arthur is proposing to travel to Cerdig’s own village with a delegation, and as Arthur’s right-hand man Kai knows he will be expected to go too.

He has never told Arthur the full extent of the humiliation and abuse he suffered at the hands of his guards, while Cerdig held him hostage.

The thought that he might have to go back to the scene of his captivity is unbearable. He is doing his level best to divert Arthur from this course of action; he doesn’t want to have to plead to be left behind, to admit he cannot face his former jailors.

But Arthur is hard to persuade, once he has an idea set in his mind; and now he is angry. ‘There is no logic in your words. Troubling everyone, you say? Well, the Saxons will trouble everyone when they arrive, whether you like it or not.’ He glares at Kai. ‘My mind is made up. I’m sending messengers to the other leaders tomorrow. And as soon as they return – we go on an embassy to Cerdig.’

Kai makes one last attempt. ‘I still don’t think –’

But Arthur overrides him. ‘Such decisions are mine,’ he snaps. ‘The decision is now made. That is the end of it.’

Kai puts his cup down and makes to rise from his seat, meaning to leave the room and keep his pride still intact for as long as he can; but Arthur reaches across the table and takes his wrist, none too gently.

‘You disappoint me, Kai. I had not expected such disloyalty from you. Were you any other man, I might almost suspect your reluctance stemmed from cowardice –’

He checks himself, as though realising he’s gone too far; but the damage has been done.

Kai gets to his feet and shakes Arthur’s hand from him, feeling the touch of Arthur’s fingers burning his skin, and Arthur’s accusation sinking into his heart like an icy knife; he grabs his cloak and stumbles out into the night.

~~~

By the time he is brought to his senses by the merciless chill of the rain, Kai is already far from the village.

He has been stumbling around in a daze, sometimes weeping bitterly, sometimes muttering angry curses or even shouting them to the uncaring sky; and now he is soaked to the skin and shivering, and he has wandered into unfamiliar territory. Many trees have fallen in the recent storms, and the forest looks strange and threatening in the flickering glare of the lightning.

He heads for a place where the trees seem thinner, hoping to come to a clearing that will offer a landmark, or maybe even a track. But as he emerges from the forest he finds himself on the bank of a river: not the little tributary on which the village lies, but the big river that flows to the estuary. The bank is steep here, and muddy; he can see the churning water gleaming down below him, swollen to a torrent.

At least he now knows where he is. All he has to do is to follow the river back downstream until he comes to their tributary, and that will lead him home.

Home.

He has nowhere else to go; he is weary and heartsick, and he supposes he can  
patch up this argument with Arthur somehow. Already he is making excuses for Arthur in his mind. It must be the stress of leadership; surely Arthur doesn’t really doubt his loyalty to the Celtic side after all they’ve been sharing recently…

He sighs, and starts walking again, clutching his sodden cloak round him although it offers little warmth. He must have been out here for hours; already the first faint hint of dawn is lightening the horizon.

A sudden huge crack of lightning breaks right overhead, and Kai is startled; his foot slips, and next moment he finds himself sliding inexorably down the bank towards the evil, thundering water.

He scrabbles with fingers and toes but can get no grip on the greasy mud. Desperately he clutches at a tree root; it slows his fall but breaks under his weight before he can haul himself to safety, and he slides into the river in a shower of dirt and gravel.

Breathless with shock and cold, and battered by the horrifying force of the floodwater, he can barely keep his head above the surface. He’s a good swimmer, but he can’t fight this.

The river tosses him like driftwood. Despite his struggles, he is swept straight past the place where their tributary flows into the main stream, and carried helplessly away.

He can’t be drowned now. He can’t –

All he can hope to do is to survive, and maybe ride the current to a sheltered place where he can swim ashore.

Then his cloak is caught between some boulders and he is dragged under; the chain is throttling him. He struggles with freezing fingers to unclasp it, and tears it free; but he can’t get a purchase on the slippery rocks, and is whirled away into the flood once more.

He calls on all the gods he knows, but they do not hear him.

It seems an eternity of terror, all deafening noise and bruising blows and churning water. Then just as he is giving up all hope, the force of the current lessens.

He spits out yet another mouthful of water: it’s salt.

He is in the estuary, and about to be carried out to sea.

Seized by panic, he thrashes desperately to keep his head above water; there is a roaring in his ears.

Then a faint hope returns. That sound is the roar of the surf; he must be near the shore.

Next moment a big swell picks him up on its crest; he just has time to glimpse land, not far off, before the wave breaks and he is rolled over and swamped by it, choking on the chill salt water, battered and tumbled and finally cast up on gritty sand.

The storm is abating, and the sky is gradually turning from black to a leaden grey.

Blindly, Kai tries to crawl away from the hungry waves, but his strength is gone.

The grey world swirls and blurs, and for a while he knows no more.


	2. Survivors

Kai is woken by the piercing cry of a seagull somewhere near his left ear. It stabs through his aching head like a dagger, and he groans and opens his eyes a crack.

The light is just as painful as the noise. He tries to roll onto his face to shut it out, but the world is spinning round and heaving under him; and then his stomach is heaving too, and he doubles up and retches, bringing up salt water and bitter bile onto the coarse sand.

He is sore all over, and so cold he isn’t even shivering any more. As the nausea eases a little, he raises his head and looks around him.

The storm has blown itself out, and the sky is bright and streaked with wisps of cloud.

He is lying among a litter of wrack and driftwood on a wide beach. As his sight clears, he realises with horror that some of the sodden objects cast up on the strandline are drowned bodies: some unfortunate boat must have foundered in the surf.

He looks up, and sees another boat heading for the beach.  
Drawing a deep breath, he is about to hail it joyfully, when his voice dies in his throat.

It is a Saxon longboat.

And behind it is another.

Still more are visible on the horizon; and there are already half a dozen pulled up on the shore at the estuary mouth, with small figures of men swarming about them, and smoke rising from cooking fires.

Kai feels a stab of desolation.

The spies’ reports were true after all. This is an invasion fleet: larger than any they’ve yet seen, and carrying a force big enough to overwhelm them all.

Arthur was right. The Celts will perish – and he won’t even be there to make a last stand at his leader’s side.

He has never felt such despair, nor has he ever felt so cold; what’s left of his clothing is soaked and ragged, and the pale sunshine has no warmth in it.

Slowly and painfully, he begins to crawl up the beach, away from the estuary and the beached ships; his head is still swimming, but the movement makes him warmer, and although he retches from time to time, he is not sick again. He finds some rainwater in a broken barrel, and the drink makes him feel a little better; he can think now.

He looks around. There is nobody else is in sight, and he’s still in familiar territory: on the eastern side of the estuary. The tide must have carried him back towards the river mouth. There is still a chance he may escape undetected and get home to warn his people.

He starts to crawl more purposefully, towards the beach head, trying to stay in cover behind the wreckage. A final push, and he will reach the shelter of the dunes.

Footsteps crunch on the shingle behind him, and something cold and hard and sharp   
is laid to the side of his neck.

‘Don’t move,’ a voice says.


	3. Captives

‘Who are you?’ It’s a light, young-sounding voice, for all it’s pretending to be gruff and warlike.

‘Bret,’ Kai mumbles, one cheek pressed against the chill, gritty sand, and the axe cold and deadly against his throat. ‘My name is Bret.’

‘I don’t know you.’ The voice is thoughtful now. ‘Were you on Emer’s boat?’

‘Emer,’ Kai says, playing for time. ‘Where is Emer?’

‘He’s dead.’

Not giving much away, this one. But Kai hopes he has been mistaken for a true Saxon, one of the crew of the foundered boat. There is still a chance he may be able to escape.

‘I thought I was dead, too,’ he says. Not so far from the truth, he thinks wryly.

The axe is cautiously withdrawn from his neck; he rolls stiffly over, and sits up.

Then despite his desperate circumstances, he finds himself smiling.

The figure standing over him, with axe upraised and gleaming, is no seasoned Saxon warrior but a slender girl, barely a woman, with glossy white-blonde hair tied into a thick braid, and a pair of keen, sparkling grey eyes.

She leans down, grips his forearm and hauls him to his feet with surprising strength. Her braid has fallen forwards over one shoulder; without thinking, Kai reaches out to push it back.

‘None of that,’ she says, her voice stern.

‘Aren’t you afraid of me?’ Kai asks.

‘In your state?’ She is scornful. ‘Why would I be?’

Kai takes his hand off her, and looks down at himself somewhat ruefully. He is indeed in a pitiful state, bruised and torn and filthy and covered in sand – and clad in breeches that are by now so tattered they barely cover anything at all…

‘Who are you?’ he asks, trying to hide his embarrassment.

She tosses her head prettily. ‘I’m Ulla,’ she replies proudly. ‘Eadwulf’s girl. He’s shipmaster of the Raven. We’re the fastest ship in the fleet. I begged and begged him to take me with him, and he said no, so I stowed away anyway and we were three days out of port before he found me.’ She grins. ‘He beat me, but it was worth it. He couldn’t turn back to take me home, so I’m to look after his new household when we settle upriver. Maybe he’ll even marry me one day. I know my way around a boat, and I can cook and sew, and I’m useful with an axe in a tight corner…’

A muscle cramps in Kai’s leg, and he can’t suppress a sharp indrawn breath as he reaches down to rub it.

She halts in the flow of her chatter, and says abruptly, ‘But you’re hurt. Come. My orders are to search for survivors, finish off any that are past saving, and look after any that aren’t. So far you’ve been the only living one I’ve found. I haven’t even needed to use my axe.’

Kai feels a chill at the light way she says this, caressing the polished blade with her thumb.

She looks at him assessingly.

‘Don’t give me cause,’ she says. ‘I took this from the last man who insulted me.’

Kai shakes his head humbly. He knows when he has met his match.

~~~

‘Don’t be such a baby.’

Ulla glares ferociously at Kai as she kneels beside his pallet.

‘This has to be cleaned, or it’ll fester. So cleaned it will be, if I have to knock you out to do it.’

She would, too. Kai has been in the Saxons’ camp for all of two hours, but already he has seen the respect with which the men of the Raven treat her; all but the helmsman, a hulking sandy-haired fellow with pale cold eyes who apparently goes by the name of Torold to his face but ‘arseling’ behind his back, and who glares at Ulla with ill-concealed resentment.

Kai cries out again as the deep cut on his upper arm, which he hadn’t even felt while he was in the water, is ruthlessly opened up, doused with some burning liquid – barley spirits by the smell of it – and swabbed clean.

‘There,’ she says, briskly. ‘There may be a few grains of sand left, but that’ll have to do. I haven’t got all day.’

She brushes aside his thanks, rips a piece of cloth into strips and binds his arm. Then she is gone from his side, only to reappear a few minutes later.

‘Here. Get this down you. The pail’s over there if you need it. Sleep if you can. You still look half-dead. I’ll be back at sundown.’

She flashes him a brief but brilliant smile, and is gone again.

Kai looks at what she’s left him: a hunk of rough wheat bread, a mug of ale and some unappetising-looking scraps that look like tree bark but turn out to be dried and salted fish. They don’t taste much better than they look, but Kai wolfs the lot down and lies back on his rough fleece blankets to assess his situation.

It could be worse.

He is in a makeshift shelter against the side of the Raven, roofed with a sail and currently housing himself, the ship’s cook, and an assortment of half a dozen or so other men who are too sick or injured to be of any use. From Ulla’s constant flow of talk he has gathered that the rest of the Saxons are hauling up and unlading the ships, or else in the forest: spying out the land, hunting for food, felling trees to build a palisade and a more substantial camp.

His head still aches fiercely, and the wound in his arm is throbbing; when he has to get up to use the pail, his legs will scarcely bear him, and he totters and stumbles across the shelter like an old man.

But he is alive, and so far nobody has thought to ask him any questions about the wreck of Emer’s boat; his wounds have been tended, he has food, and there is a faint hope that this girl may be a useful ally, if he is careful.

That helmsman gives him the cold shivers, though. There is a sharp and evil intelligence at work behind those pale eyes; it would be well to stay out of his way.

Desperate though he is to return home, Kai knows that there is nothing to be done right now. He is stuck here, in plain sight of his enemies and too weak and tired to attempt escape; that will have to wait for nightfall.

Meanwhile he should conserve his strength. He rolls himself in his fleeces, and lets his exhaustion carry him off to sleep again.

~~~

He is wakened by the bustle and shouts of the men returning to the camp for the night; the sky is darkening, and there is a gleam of golden sunset through the doorway of the shelter.

The few hours’ rest have done Kai good; his head has cleared, and his energy is returning.

He feels still better when he sees Ulla coming in, a lighted lamp in her hand. She puts it carefully on the table, and comes over to inspect his bandaged arm.

‘That’s better,’ she says, as she re-ties the bindings. ‘It’s closing already. You were lucky it didn’t go down to the bone. Did you sleep?’

Kai nods.

‘You don’t talk much, do you?’ She looks at him keenly.

He does his best to look innocent. ‘Not much to talk about, is there?’

‘That depends,’ she says, and her tone sends a chill to his heart.

Behind her, others are moving about, preparing the evening meal, setting food and ale on the table, talking and laughing. She lowers her voice to reach Kai’s ears alone. ‘I’ve been asking around the other crews. Nobody has ever heard of a Bret on Emer’s ship or indeed on any other of the fleet. You’re not one of us, are you?’

A stab of despair strikes through him.

To his surprise, her grey eyes soften. ‘It’s all right,’ she says. ‘I knew you were a fraud when I first picked you up. You have to be the most useless liar I’ve ever come across, and believe me I’ve met a few. I should have stuck an axe in your skull and left you where I found you. But there was something about you…’ She shakes her head at her own folly. ‘You needed my help this morning. And you need it now. Just tell me –’

‘Tell you what, wench?’

Torold’s cold voice cuts through Ulla’s eager chatter like an axe.

‘Noth – nothing, Torold,’ she says, ‘nothing at all, I was just asking him to tell me whether his wound still pained him…’

Her voice trails away as Eadwulf and another man, unknown to Kai but built like a Cornish warhorse, loom up behind Torold.

‘Well now, Bret,’ Torold says, ‘perhaps I too can just ask you to tell me a few things. Tell me, for example, which oar you rowed on Emer’s ship.’

Kai shakes his head. ‘I – I don’t remember… I hit my head when we foundered…’

‘But you remember your name,’ Eadwulf cuts in. ‘Surely you must know your rowing station.’

Helplessly, Kai shakes his head again, doing his best to look confused.

Torold grins evilly. ‘Tell me, then, sailor, since you remember your own name, and apparently that of your shipmaster; tell me the name of your ship.’

His small, close-set eyes bore into Kai’s as he grips Kai’s bandaged arm and squeezes it with brutal force.

‘I thought as much,’ he says, his voice now menacingly quiet. ‘You’re a spy…’

Kai fights down the urge to scream with pain. He licks his lips, thinking furiously. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I – I’m from a village near here. I fell in the river. Early this morning. I washed up on the beach. I swear I didn’t know you were here.’   
This much is true, at least.

The big man behind Torold grunts, ‘Kill him anyway. We can’t let him go.’

‘No!’ Ulla’s sharp voice makes everyone in the shelter look round; they drift over, curious to see what is afoot.

‘No,’ she says again, looking Eadwulf squarely in the eye. ‘Don’t kill him. Not yet.’ She raises her voice so it carries to the others. ‘Don’t you see? If he’s a local spy, he may be useful to us. He knows the lie of the land. He can take us to this village of his, and perhaps to others too. Or at least tell us where to go.’

There are murmurs of assent from the crowd.

‘You have a point,’ Eadwulf admits, grudgingly.

‘He could be from Cerdig,’ the big man says gruffly. ‘He’s supposed to have settled near this river.’

Torold’s eyes grow even sharper and smaller. ‘If this man is from Cerdig’s people, perhaps he knows of the Celts round here too. The ones that follow that wild dog they call Arthur.’

Arthur… Kai can’t keep his face from betraying that that name means something to him.

And he knows Torold’s narrowed eyes have seen that betrayal.

Very quietly, Torold says to Eadwulf, ‘Let me torture him. I’ll soon find out what he knows.’

‘I’ll die before I tell you anything,’ Kai snarls through clenched teeth.

Torold looks at him with those cold, knowing eyes. ‘You would, too…’ he says thoughtfully.

He nods to his big henchman, who grabs Ulla by the hair, forcing her head back, pinning her to him with his other arm.

‘But what about her?’ Torold asks Kai. ‘Would you let her die? Or…’

Eadwulf protests. ‘She’s my woman. You can’t –’

But Torold turns on him, and silences him. ‘You need me,’ he hisses at Eadwulf. ‘Your uncle named you shipmaster – but he’s dead now. And without a right-hand man, so are you.’

With a sinking heart Kai realises how it is between them, as he sees Eadwulf’s helpless expression. Eadwulf may be captain, but he is young, and inexperienced, and lacking in strength; it is Torold who has the real power here.

Ulla’s hands are bound; Torold subdues Kai with a fierce blow to the jaw that makes his head reel, and ties him up, handling him roughly.

Kai and Ulla are dragged to the doorway, with the other Saxons looking on but making no attempt to interfere. Only Eadwulf makes to follow them; but Torold prevents him. ‘Don’t make us tie you up too,’ he says coldly. ‘This won’t take long. You can have her back when we’ve finished with her.’

The captain’s hands drop weakly to his sides as the prisoners are hauled from the shelter and out into the chill of the gathering night.


	4. Victims

Stumbling in the dim light, and urged along by kicks and blows from their captors, Kai and Ulla are taken to the side of another ship, forced up a ladder at knifepoint, and dragged into a dank cabin below the steerage deck at the stern.

It’s cold and cramped, lit only by a small lantern hung from a bracket in the corner; there is a strong smell of fish, and worse.

Clearly this place is used as a prison: the bar on the door is on the outside. But there is no hope of escape; Torold’s henchman blocks the doorway every bit as effectively as a baulk of solid timber.

Handing Kai over to the big man’s unforgiving grip, Torold knocks Ulla to the floor, and kneels astride her; she curses and spits in his face.

He loses patience; rips at her clothing.

‘Bitch. I’ve waited a long time to get even with you.’ His stiff cock pushes at his breeches, casting a sharp shadow across his groin.

To his disgust, Kai can feel the heat of the other man’s prick pressed against him, and hear his rasping breathing and his grunt of approval as Torold thrusts a hand into the front of Ulla’s dress.

Kai knows he should let them have her, refuse to talk, let them kill him too if they will, if it will save his people. But he can’t – he can’t…

He licks his lips and drags breath into his lungs; forces himself to speak.

‘Wait…’

Torold looks up from mauling Ulla’s breasts, then abruptly gets to his feet and throws her aside; she lands by the wall, with a heavy, sodden thud. Kai can’t see whether she’s hurt, but she lies very still.

He puts his face very close to Kai’s, and grins evilly. ‘Something you want to tell me?’

Kai turns his face away from the waft of Torold’s foul breath, and does his best to lie.

‘The Celts have a settlement by the lake…’

Many stunning blows later and Kai is whimpering on the floor, no longer certain what he’s told Torold and what he hasn’t. Both Saxons are laying into him with feet and fists, and taking an unhealthy pleasure in their work; his nose is bleeding and one eye is swollen shut, and he can no longer think straight against the constant barrage of curt questions.

Finally Torold stands back; hauls Kai to his feet and thanks him ironically.

Then they tie him to a bulkhead, and make him watch as they strip Ulla naked and take turns to rape her.

Kai yells and curses and struggles in his bonds, burning to avenge himself on his captors; but they have tied the ropes brutally tight and all his efforts avail him nothing.

An ugly sneer contorts Torold’s face. ‘Save your breath, traitor. You’re next.’

Ulla stays silent, but for a few gasps of pain.

Kai feels hot tears running down his cheeks, and hates himself for showing such weakness in front of his enemies.

After what seems hours of torment, the big man pulls his reddened and dripping prick from between Ulla’s thighs, and wipes it on a rag torn from her clothing.

He and Torold grin at each other and piss on her.

They roll her limp body into the corner.

Then they come for Kai.

~~~

Afterwards, as he lies curled in agony on the wet and stinking floorboards of the cabin, they deal him a final blow, worse than all the rest.

Gleefully they tell him that one of the Celtic spies at the port had been ‘persuaded’ (Torold smiles hideously) to join the Saxon side before the winter storms came.

Tonight’s ordeal has been nothing more than casual sport.

These brutes don’t care if he’s a Celt or a Saxon, or even whether what he has told them is true or not: the invaders already know where both Cerdig’s and Arthur’s villages are.

And in three days they will march upriver with all forces and destroy them both.


	5. Fugitives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And death is at your doorstep  
>  And it will steal your innocence  
> But it will not steal your substance…_

It is dark here, and very cold, and someone is in pain and weeping, a thin high keening, on and on.

A hand slaps Kai sharply in the face.

The pain continues, but the weeping stops abruptly.

‘Sorry,’ Ulla mutters in his ear. ‘But you’ve cried long enough.’

She lays her hand against his cheek, gently this time. ‘I needed to stop you before the racket drove me mad. And we need to get out of here before they come back.’

‘Why didn’t they kill us?’ Kai says weakly, wiping his face on his arm and struggling to sit up.

‘They enjoyed themselves tonight. They fancy coming back for more.’ Ulla spits with disgust. ‘And I heard them talking after you blacked out. They want the pleasure of telling your leader you betrayed him, before they kill you in front of him… and they need me for leverage over Eadwulf, so that Torold can bid for power. We’re not on the ship any more, we don’t need the captain’s skill to keep us all alive. The rowers have all got their hands free to fight – and they’ll switch sides in an instant when they see which way the wind blows. Poor Eadwulf.’ She sighs heavily. ‘But we can’t help him now. And we’re wasting time. Come on. Up with you…’

She grips Kai by one wrist and somehow pulls him to his feet. He staggers and leans against her, his knees weak, his body afire. Ulla murmurs a brief word of comfort and puts her arms around him; he recalls with a shock that they are both naked.

Her thin body is shivering, and he knows she must be feeling as bad as he is, if not worse.

Suddenly he is ashamed of his weakness; but she wastes no time in chiding him for it.

‘That big bastard’s been left outside on sentry duty,’ she whispers grimly. ‘He’s pacing the deck to keep warm. When he next goes down to the bow...’

She straightens up, releasing Kai. ‘I’ve been looking around. There’s a window hatch to the side of the door. If we can get the shutter off, there’s a chance I can squeeze through it. We need to find something to pry the hinge loose. Get searching.’

They scour the cabin in the darkness, but find nothing at all that can be used as a tool, until Kai stumbles over a storage chest shoved in the furthest corner, stifling a grunt of pain as he bangs his shin and wrenches his knee.

Ulla is by his side in an instant, and he hears her whisper a fervent prayer to her gods as they lift the lid.

Their luck is turning. Inside the chest there is a jumble of fishing nets and sailcloth, and underneath them Kai’s searching fingers come upon a small blade, perhaps a fisherman’s skinning-knife, blunted and worn and forgotten. Jubilantly he presses it into Ulla’s hand, and together they grope across the cabin to the window.

Ulla peers out through the crack between the door and its frame. ‘He’s off again,’ she hisses. ‘Quick…’

Careful to make as little noise as possible, Kai takes the knife and begins to prise the shutter hinge out of its socket. Twice he has to stop, alerted by Ulla, and wait impatiently for the sentry to go on his rounds.

His weary fingers fumble with the cold metal, and the hinge comes free with agonising slowness.

But he cannot give up now.

~~~

The shutter lands on deck with a clatter that seems deafening; hearts in mouths, they wait for the alarm to be raised, but all is still.

The sudden flood of moonlight is very bright.

Ulla hauls herself painfully to the sill and squeezes through the narrow opening, Kai helping her, lifting her, shocked as he feels her thigh slick with blood. She thuds to the deck, scrambles up and vanishes round the corner.

Kai waits anxiously inside the door. He wouldn’t blame her if she just ran and left him here… but in his heart he knows that she will not.

They are in this together now.

He strains to hear the sounds from outside. There is a sudden scuffle, a thud, a muffled cry of pain – then silence.

His heartbeat is loud in his ears.

He waits.

Someone is at the door. Kai tenses, holding the pathetic little knife, ready to go down fighting.

The bar on the outside of the door is lifted.

Ulla is standing on the threshold.

‘The guard?’ Kai mutters anxiously; but Ulla smiles with grim satisfaction, and shows him an axe dark with blood. The guard has been taken care of, it seems.

She is clad in the big man’s tunic, which billows around her and reaches to her knees; silently, she hands Kai the man’s breeches and boots. The former are too large for him and the latter too small, and all are dirty; but he is in no position to pick and choose. He pulls them on with all haste.

Ulla is watching him with her bright eyes. He reaches out a hand to her, and together they tiptoe cautiously across the deck to the side of the boat that is in shadow.

Peering over the railing, Kai sees nobody. There is a gale of raucous laughter from the shelter alongside the next boat, and away in the distance somebody is singing; but it is clear that no suspicions have yet been aroused. Evidently Torold had absolute faith in his sentry; and he has somehow prevented Eadwulf from coming to look for Ulla.

Kai does not want to think how.

Painfully, they scramble over the side; it’s a long drop to the ground, and every bone in Kai’s body is jarred by the impact as he lands. He can barely prevent himself from crying out, and his head swims with the pain; but he manages to break Ulla’s fall, catching her light frame easily in his arms.

They steal across the open space in front of the shelter, and hide in the shadow of a pile of firewood, clinging together, to catch their breath for a moment.

‘Who are you, truly?’ she whispers, her face pressed into the hollow of his neck. ‘If we’re going to be fugitives together, I think I should at least know your right name.’

She has clearly given up Eadwulf as a lost cause.

Kai owes her his life; and he owes her the truth.

‘I’m Kai,’ he breathes into her ear, beneath her chill and sodden hair. ‘Kai, the Saxon who rides with Arthur. My home is the Celtic village upriver.’

She is silent for a moment. ‘And will Ulla, the Saxon who ran away with Kai, be welcome in Arthur’s village?’

‘Of course,’ Kai says, his heart lifting.

He raises her face to his, and gives her a kiss for luck; she returns it with enthusiasm, and for a few heartbeats the cold and the danger and the heartache cease to trouble him.

But all too soon he feels her pull away from him. ‘Come on, then,’ she whispers, taking his hand again. ‘Let’s get going.’

~~~

They are only a few yards from the edge of the forest when there is a shout from behind them.

Letting go of each other, they run, knowing they are clearly visible in the pitiless moonlight.

A flung spear whistles past Kai’s shoulder, and then another; he is thankful the invaders have brought no hounds with them. Fear gives him strength for a final burst of speed, forgetting his injuries as he hurls himself into the welcoming shelter of the trees, where he knows the Saxons will be reluctant to follow.

From behind a gnarled trunk he peers back the way he has come, looking around for Ulla. She cannot be far behind him…

She is not far; but she will not be coming home with him now.

Her bright hair has fallen from its braid and is spread around her as she lies on the ground, her arms flung wide and a great dark stain of blood spreading around the spear projecting from her back.

Kai has seen many sudden deaths in his time; but none has ever flooded him with such horror and pity.

He feels tears pricking at his eyes, and almost he begins to weep helplessly again; but then he recalls Ulla’s hand slapping his face, her strength bringing him to his senses, her practical courage and good humour, and despite everything he finds himself half-smiling.

She was a true warrior and a loyal friend.

Already their pursuers are gathering around her, gesticulating and pointing. He must not waste this short but precious delay that is her last gift to him.

He forces himself to go on, stumbling and slipping through the dense undergrowth until he reaches the river; he flings himself over the lip of the steep bank and hides in a dark, wet underhang at the edge of the water until all sounds of pursuit die away.

~~~

It is many hours before Kai dares to stir from hiding: foodless, half-naked, chilled to the bone, grieving, stiff and sore, but none the less resolute.

He wonders whether Arthur will take him back; but he knows he has to try to save him.

He owes Ulla’s memory that much; and his own shame gnaws at him too.

So he grits his teeth and sets off upstream.

The homeward journey is hard going; he dare not stray far from the river for fear of losing his way or encountering Saxon scouts. At first it’s flat and muddy, but further upstream the way is rocky and steep and every boulder in his path feels like a mountain to climb.

The Giant’s Stair is the first crossing place, and he must reach it before the invaders do. When he thinks of how far he has still to go, he despairs again.

Arthur will think him dead – must already think him dead.

And he is so slow; he’ll never get there in time.

Soon he has lost all track of the hours, as he forces himself to put one foot before the other all through the next day and into the night. He’s feverish now, delirious and in pain; sometimes he can hear himself moaning, sometimes he thinks he can hear voices answering back.

And always alongside him there is the sound of the river.

As the night sky begins to pale, he can go no further. His sight is swimming, and his aching legs will no longer bear him. He staggers into the shelter of a thicket and collapses, sleep overtaking him whether he wills it or no.

At first there are terrifying nightmares of blood and pursuit, then merciful blackness.


	6. Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And we have our choices  
>  And these are what make man great  
> His ladder to the stars…_

Brightness stabs into Kai’s consciousness, and there is a roaring in his ears.

He struggles to open his eyes, turning his face away from the blinding light. For a minute he thinks he’s back on the beach again and that the Saxon fleet was just an evil dream among all the other evil dreams…   
Finally he shakes off the last vestige of sleep to find he’s lying on a heap of damp leaves under some bushes; the afternoon sun has finally chased the clouds away and is shining full in his face.  
His head is clearer, and he is no longer running a fever; but he does not know this place. Dismayed, he struggles to his feet, and looks around for the river.

There is a shimmer of reflected sunlight away to his left, and he heads unsteadily towards it, the roaring in his ears growing louder, until he clears the trees and sees the source of the noise: the water thundering over the weir at the Giant’s Stair.  
A sob of relief escapes him; he is back on familiar ground at last.   
He could cross the river here.  
He longs with all his heart to do just that – to go straight home and throw himself at Arthur’s feet.

But he cannot.

It is time for him to face the truth that he’s been trying to put out of his mind ever since he began his desperate journey.

The Saxon invaders are at most a couple of days behind him, and the Celts will be overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Arthur and his people may make a brave last stand, but it will be the end of them, of that there is no doubt. There is no time to muster the Celts’ full forces or send to Yorath or Mark for help; by the time they arrive it will all be over.   
No, there is only one way to save Arthur now, although the thought of attempting it fills Kai with dread and loathing.

Cerdig.

His village is nearby; and he commands a substantial force.  
Kai will have to throw himself on Cerdig’s mercy and hope against hope to persuade him and his warriors that they must join forces with the Celts to fight the invaders.   
Cerdig will very likely not believe him; he may be executed, or imprisoned, or worse; but he has to try.   
It is with a heavy heart that he turns away from the river and limps down the track that leads to the Saxon settlement.

If he succeeds, there is a chance they may all survive.

If he fails, he will never see Arthur again.

~~~

By the time Kai rounds the final bend, it’s dark, just as it was when he and Arthur came here together to ambush Cerdig in the time of the cattle plague. There is the roof of Cerdig’s quarters, and there the low place in the palisade where they climbed over, hearts in mouths…   
That was a risky expedition, but tonight Kai must undertake something even more hazardous: go in through the gate.

He draws a deep breath as he looks at the silent, brooding village. Fear whimpers up from the pit of his stomach, but he fights it down, reminding himself that Arthur’s life is at stake here.   
For Arthur, he would dare anything, even this return to enemy territory that he had resisted so strongly; and perhaps, after his suffering at the hands of the invaders, facing Cerdig will not seem so bad…  
He is at the gate now. Nothing stirs. Resolutely, he raises a fist and pounds on the wood.

‘Open up! Open up, I say! I must speak with Cerdig!’

His voice sounds thin and weak in his own ears, but it does the trick; a sleepy, grumpy sentry opens the gate a grudging crack, and peers out. He gives a cry of alarm and a second, larger fellow appears behind him – then strides swiftly out and grabs Kai by the arm. With a sinking heart, Kai recognises him as one of the guards who so abused him during his days of captivity here; and in the same moment the Saxon recognises Kai too.

‘Well, if it isn’t Arthur’s little playmate,’ he sneers. ‘Didn’t you have enough the last time you were here? Or did he tire of you and send you back?’   
He spits in Kai’s face, and drags him in through the gate. Kai offers no resistance.  
‘And you’ve started to undress already,’ the man goes on, running a none-too-gentle hand over Kai’s crotch. ‘That’ll save us some time…’  
Kai feels sick, and to his horror he is aware that his legs are beginning to buckle under him. He struggles in the man’s grip, and shouts as loudly as he can: ‘Cerdig! I must speak with Cerdig –’  
A vicious blow to the mouth silences him.  
‘Shall we kill him now?’ the smaller sentry asks. He has a high-pitched, nasal voice that sets Kai’s teeth on edge. ‘Or take him to the hut and have some fun? Cerdig can have what’s left in the morning…’

Kai’s blood runs cold. Weakness is overcoming him again… but they have not bound his hands yet… he makes a last desperate effort, twisting out of his captor’s grip and knocking the other man over as he makes a frantic dash, not the way they expect – towards the unbarred gate – but towards the doorway of Cerdig’s hut.

He flings himself over the threshold with both guards at his heels, trips on something, and falls headlong with a resounding crash.

Cerdig is awake and alert on the instant.

‘What the – ?’

Kai scrambles to his knees, bruised and shaken. Recognition dawns on Cerdig’s ruddy features, and he glares at the panting sentries.  
‘And just who is guarding the gate?’ he snaps.  
The guards start to protest, but he will have none of it. ‘Get out,’ he barks. ‘Go and wake Ulm and Hengist and send ’em up to the longhouse. Something’s happened. I’ll meet them there when I’ve found out what. Then get back to your posts. Go on, go!’

Somehow Kai has managed to pull himself upright and is leaning exhaustedly against the wall. Cerdig turns to stare at him.  
‘Alright, now what in the name of all your gods and mine brings you here unarmed and half-naked in the middle of the night?’  
His voice is mild, but his eye is keen. Kai shivers as he recalls what Cerdig tried, the last time they were alone in this hut together… and now Cerdig is coming towards him. He recoils; but the Saxon chief is merely holding out a cloak to him.   
‘Speak!’ Cerdig orders.   
Kai wraps the cloak around himself, sinks gratefully onto the bench by the table, and tells his tale in as few words as may be; while he talks, Cerdig is bustling about the hut, strapping on his axe and dagger, lacing up his boots, but nevertheless listening attentively.

And when Kai is done, Cerdig is already standing by the door.

It seems that the Saxon leader not only accepts the truth of Kai’s tale, but is prepared to act on it. Astonished, Kai stands up and makes to join him.   
Cerdig shakes his head.   
‘You stay here. Your part is done. There’s food and drink there if you want it. Then I’d get some sleep if I were you – you’ll need it. We’ve got a long march ahead of us tomorrow and we’ll leave at daybreak.’ He turns back on the threshold. ‘I won’t be needing my bed again tonight. Bar the door from the inside, and rest easy.’  
And without waiting to hear Kai’s stumbling words of thanks, he is gone.

Kai bars the door, and keeps his drooping eyelids open long enough for him to force down some rough wheat bread and a mug of water. Then he stumbles over to the bed, flings himself down and rolls himself in the woollen blankets.   
He is warm now, and there is a tiny flicker of hope in his heart for the first time in many days. Perhaps this insane plan may succeed after all.

Against all his expectations, Cerdig believed him.

But will Arthur?


	7. Strangers

The news of the Saxon warriors’ approach has clearly preceded them: the gate in Arthur’s palisade is firmly shut and barred, and the rising sun glints on the tips of many spears in the village inside.

Kai feels a pang of sadness, to be coming home like this, as an enemy.

He winces as his ill-fitting Saxon boots catch the raw blisters on his feet. Since daybreak yesterday Cerdig’s army has been marching with all speed, save for a few hours after moonset when they were forced to stop and rest, catching broken, uncomfortable sleep among the rocks and roots of the forest.

Kai is exhausted; his body aches all over, and the hope he felt when Cerdig roused him and showed him the mustered Saxons has all but evaporated. He is desperate to see Arthur again, and also fearful. He has to make this negotiation succeed; but he has no idea how. If Arthur should reject him…

He stiffens his spine. His strength is all but gone. It is really only his pride now that is keeping him on his feet.

They halt well out of spearshot of the village. Cerdig takes Kai’s arm and draws him forward a few paces from the line, together with Ulm, who waves a flag of truce as Cerdig publicly and elaborately lays down his axe and dagger.

‘Arthur!’ Cerdig calls in a great voice. ‘I would speak with you on an urgent matter!’

At first there is silence; then the gate creaks open, and Arthur, Llud and a few mounted guards ride out and halt a little way away.

They reverse their spears, and thrust them into the ground.

‘What do you want with me?’ Arthur calls.

Kai’s heart leaps at the sound of Arthur’s voice; but Arthur hasn’t yet recognised him. Kai supposes that in his stolen breeches and borrowed cloak he appears to be just another Saxon. And there is no reason for Arthur to expect him to be here…

‘I have come to negotiate a truce,’ Cerdig says. ‘We are threatened by a common enemy.’

Arthur’s voice sharpens. ‘How do I know you are in earnest?’

‘I have something here that belongs to you. I am returning it, as a demonstration of my good faith.’

Arthur frowns. ‘The shield? That was a gift. Keep it.’

Cerdig flings back his head with a big belly-laugh. ‘Oh, I intend to.’ He shows Arthur the shield, on his arm. ‘I’m not parting with this. No, I have brought with me something of far greater value.’ He puts a hand on Kai’s shoulder. ‘And far more truly yours.’

Kai sees Arthur’s face light up with astonished joy; he is off his horse in a flash and running towards the Saxon lines, despite Llud’s cry of ‘No! It could be a trap!’

The wild thunder of his own heart deafens Kai’s ears; his sight is swimming, and his aching legs seem to have stopped working altogether. Cerdig pushes him forwards and says quietly ‘Go on.’

Kai staggers towards the gate, nearly foundering; Arthur reaches him just in time to catch him and prevent him from falling.

‘My heart…’ Arthur whispers brokenly. ‘My Kai…We thought you drowned…’

It overwhelms Kai with mingled delight and sorrow to feel Arthur’s arms around him again; it may be the only time; but he has a task to do. He forces himself to speak.

‘Arthur… Cerdig is in earnest, I promise you…’  
Arthur holds Kai at arms’ length and looks searchingly into his face; then he draws a sharp breath.  
‘What have they done to you?’ he asks.  
‘Nothing,’ Kai says.   
Arthur’s expression darkens. ‘Kai, you’re covered in bruises. I said I’d kill that fat Saxon pig if he harmed you. What did he do to you, to make you bring him here?’  
Kai shakes his head. ‘It’s not what you think. Cerdig never touched me. I swear it.’  
‘I don’t believe you,’ Arthur snaps.   
‘You must believe me.’ Kai closes his eyes, fighting back tears. This is harder even than he had expected. ‘Listen, Arthur, please. We don’t have much time.’  
He hears Arthur heave a sigh. ‘Very well. Go on.’  
Kai wipes his face wearily on his cloak, and tries to keep his voice from shaking. ‘You must make this truce. You must. You were right… about the Saxon fleet. I’ve seen it. In the estuary. I was swept right down… I – I was captured, and – harmed, but not by Cerdig’s people. By the invaders. They’re a day or so behind us. Coming up the river. Too many for us to fight. I escaped, and went to Cerdig first...’

Arthur is silent for a few heartbeats, looking into Kai’s eyes; then he says quietly, ‘You speak the truth. You have done well. Now it is time for me to do what I can.’

It is as though a huge weight falls from Kai’s shoulders; he sways on his feet. Arthur puts a supporting arm round him, and together they return to where Cerdig stands waiting.

Without further hesitation, Arthur reaches out to the Saxon leader and clasps his hand.

‘I thank you, from the bottom of my heart,’ he says in a clear voice. ‘I accept this token of your sincerity. I would welcome you into my house as an ally. Come – we have indeed much to discuss, and little time.’

‘We will enter your house in peace,’ Cerdig says formally, and gestures to his lieutenants to lay down their arms and follow him.

~~~

The Celts mutter discontentedly to see Saxons invited into their village, and they mutter even more when Arthur gives orders to them to feed the army outside the gates too; but Arthur is in no mood to tolerate dissent, and faces them down.

‘This is a new beginning,’ he says in a clear voice that carries across the yard. ‘A new time, when we may at last realise our dream of living in peace with our former enemies. We are all under threat. Kai has brought word of an army of new Saxon invaders coming up the river to attack us. We cannot hope to defeat them alone – but with Cerdig’s help, we may. So let us share what we have, in common cause and with willing hearts.’

There is a hasty discussion of tactics around the longhouse table, in which Arthur, Cerdig and Llud play the major part. Kai takes a seat next to Arthur, eating little and saying less; he answers questions when they are addressed to him, but otherwise just sits and looks at Arthur’s beautiful profile, or at Llud, or around the familiar room. He thought he might never see any of them again, and perhaps after today they will once again be lost to him; he feels terrible, and every time Arthur smiles at him the burden of his shame weighs more heavily.

Just as the plan, such as it is, has finally been agreed, one of the scouts sent out by Arthur before the meeting in the longhouse gallops frantically in with news that the invaders are closer than everyone thought.

The preparations for battle now have an urgent intensity. Weapons are sharpened, shield-straps are tightened, horses are saddled and the commanders bark orders to their men.

Kai insists on fighting too, and will not be gainsaid by anyone, not even Arthur. So while Arthur is overseeing the final muster of the combined forces, Lenni and Llud take Kai into the bedchamber to dress the worst of his injuries and find him clean clothing.

Llud cannot stop smiling at his elder son, and Lenni too has a joyous sparkle in her eyes; but Kai is still sick at heart and has to pretend that his injuries are the result of his pounding by the river, and that he is just quiet because he is saving all his strength for the coming battle.

As Llud leaves, still grinning from ear to ear, to take his place at the head of the foot-soldiers he is to command, Lenni looks up at Kai with concern and makes a questioning gesture. What’s wrong?

‘Nothing,’ Kai says harshly.

Her face is wrung; she puts a hand on his arm. Tell me. Let me help…

Almost he is tempted to fall on her neck and tell her everything, but he must be strong now, for Arthur’s sake.

He pushes her gently aside. ‘You’re a good friend to me. Thank you. But you’ve done everything you can…’

‘She’s done a very good job, by the look of it,’ a clear voice says from behind him.

Kai swings round to see Arthur standing in the doorway. ‘You’ll be needing this,’ Arthur says with a smile; he is holding out Kai’s axe.

Kai takes it, but cannot return the smile. He has to turn away surreptitiously and wipe his eyes on his sleeve; Arthur is thanking Lenni, and does not see.

Arthur stands with his hands on Kai’s shoulders for a moment, still grinning with happiness despite the seriousness of the hour.

‘It’s good to have you home,’ he says lightly, although Kai knows there is much behind that he cannot bring himself to say. ‘And Kai… I’m sorry… that I drove you out in the first place. Never again…’

Someone outside the longhouse calls for him, and he presses a swift kiss on Kai’s lips before tearing himself away and striding outside.

Even from behind, he looks happy.

Kai doesn’t know how to bear it.


	8. Warriors

‘Haiii!’

The tall Saxon with the red serpent on his shield is roused to fury; his axe blade whistles through the air. Spittle flies from his cursing mouth, and his braided hair is darkened with sweat.

He raises his axe and swings it with full force; but Kai ducks and weaves and yet again the blow is wide of the mark, missing Kai’s head by three fingers’ breadth.

Kai circles, bending low, saving his strength as much as he can, waiting his chance. He can hear Arthur’s voice in his mind: ‘We let the boar run onto the spear.’ It is simply a matter of goading his enemy into losing patience; making a rash move …

And here it comes.

Some sixth sense warns Kai of the impending strike, and he sidesteps his onrushing adversary, raising his axe just in time to let the man’s own speed and bulk bring him crashing full tilt into the blade.

The impact splits the man’s skull, spraying a haze of blood over everything, and the red serpent lies dead in the mud.

Kai pulls his axe free and steps over the fallen body, wiping his filthy, sweating face with his forearm. A smear of blue comes away on the back of his wrist, and he smiles to see it. Another of Arthur’s brilliant ideas …

Of great concern before this battle had been the difficulty of telling friend from foe. To a Celt, all Saxons look alike, and Cerdig’s men had refused point blank to adopt Celtic dress or even to remove their traditional fleeces. But then Arthur had suggested marking their Saxon allies with woad. Cerdig had agreed, but his warriors complained bitterly about being painted like women … until Arthur gave orders for all to be so marked, Saxon and Celt alike.

Somehow, the dipping of fingers into the dye pot, and the hasty application of that little stripe of blue warpaint to one another’s foreheads, bound them all together in a way that all their leaders’ fine words could not.

The battle plan was simple – for Llud to command a feigned Celtic retreat on foot to lure the invaders into the narrow part of the valley, leaving both Arthur’s cavalry and Cerdig’s forces hidden in the forest on either side, ready to cut off their escape from behind.

At first it worked well, and the invaders suffered heavy losses at the hands of the riders and spearmen closing on them from the rear; but now that they have realised what’s happening, they are organising themselves to strike hard at the weakest point in the ring, where Llud’s forces are spread out among the trees and it is difficult for the cavalry to come to their aid.

Forced to dismount when his horse was lamed by a flying spear, Kai has been fighting furiously despite his hurts and weariness; he has a point to prove. First and foremost, he needs to show Arthur that he is truly on the Celtic side, and lay the memory of their quarrel to rest.

He is also burning for vengeance against the Saxon invaders. He ranges here and there along the line, his fury lending weight to his axe as he cuts down his enemies. They are all vermin, to be destroyed; but Kai is on a personal quest, too. Somewhere among the crowd of hostile men on this battlefield is one man in particular with whom he has a score to settle, not just on his own account but on Ulla’s …

As though summoned by Kai’s thought, Torold is suddenly standing between two oak trees a few yards away, watching him with pale cold eyes and an evil rictus of a smile.

A wave of remembered fear and loathing sweeps through Kai’s body, followed by an onrush of rage.

All he wants in this moment is to kill this man.

All around them men are fighting, screaming, running, and there is the clash of weapons and the neighing of horses; but Kai ignores them. Torold’s spiteful hand is pointing at him, and there is loathsome delight in Torold’s face as he sees his escaped captive once again at his mercy.

Only this time Kai is not bound and helpless.

‘Greetings, Bret,’ Torold says coldly. ‘This time you won’t escape me. I’m going to cut you into little pieces, you worthless turd.’

Kai grips his axe haft in readiness, and it is as though that small movement has unlocked a door and released all of his pent-up pain and fury. Suddenly he is yelling, and cursing, desperate to bring his enemy down, all Arthur’s words of caution driven from his mind by his anger.

He swings the axe wildly, but Torold dodges the blow with ease, and strikes back, only just missing Kai’s shield-arm. He is grinning. ‘That the best you can do, traitor?’

Kai’s second blow misses too, and Torold is jubilant. ‘I know who you are now,’ he sneers, as he circles around Kai, trying to goad him into dropping his guard. ‘You’re the Saxon who fucks with Arthur. Or at least you were …’ He gets in a strike at Kai’s shield, jarring Kai’s arm painfully. ‘Until you fucked with me –’

A roar of rage escapes Kai. He throws himself towards Torold, swinging his axe; but his foot catches on a fallen branch, and suddenly he is falling, with Torold’s laughter ringing in his ears.

The hard cold ground comes up to meet him and knocks all the breath from his body.

He rolls over and struggles to rise, but a heavy boot is planted on his chest, preventing him.

‘And now you’re fucked,’ Torold gloats.

Kai is numb with shock. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be –

As if through a mist, he sees his enemy raise his axe to strike, the wicked, curved blade catching the light as it rises.

But the blow never falls.

Torold suddenly reels and staggers, turning away, the handle of a dagger sticking out between his ribs. His axe tumbles from his hand and he clutches feebly at himself, trying to pull the blade free, a froth of blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth and a high-pitched shriek of agony coming from his throat as he crumples to his knees and then falls to the ground.

Kai scrambles to his feet and takes a swift stride forwards. He kicks Torold onto his back so that he can look into Torold’s eyes; then spits in Torold’s face, and swings a booted foot into his groin for good measure.

Torold writhes and shudders, his cries growing louder.

‘Now who’s fucked?’ Kai snarls.

He raises his axe above his head, meaning to sever his enemy’s head and silence that hated voice forever. But he is tired, and weakened, and his first stroke goes wide, opening a bloody cleft in Torold’s shoulder, and the screaming goes on and on as he tugs the axe free.

‘Yes, scream all you like,’ he says, and lifts it again, this time bringing the blade down on Torold’s throat with a sickening crunch.

Kai bends over the twitching body of his foe, and heaves the axe clear; then he draws a deep and shaken breath and looks up, to see who threw the weapon that has just saved his life.

Arthur is standing there, his face grim.

He says no word of greeting, but retrieves and cleans his dagger; then he kicks at Torold’s body.

‘Arthur …’ Kai says, uncertainly.

‘I saw your face,’ Arthur says shortly, as though in great pain. He looks at Kai, who is opening his mouth to speak, and shakes his head. ‘Not now, Kai. We have work to do. You can tell me later.’

And with that, he is gone, racing after a pair of enemy Saxons who are trying to slip away into the cover of a bramble thicket.

Kai looks round for more heads to break. At least swinging his axe stops him from having to think.

~~~

Just before sundown Arthur and Cerdig meet on the battlefield and clasp hands in formal acknowledgement of victory. The remaining forces are being tallied, messengers have ridden to the village with the news, and already the bodies are being gathered from field and forest to be taken home with honour, or else stripped and piled for burning.

Kai leans against a tree, bone-tired, unable to take it all in. Now more than ever he longs for home, for the familiar smoky darkness of the Longhouse sleeping place and the warmth of his sheepskin blankets: to sleep, and be comforted…

A heavy hand is laid on his shoulder, and he starts; but it is only Llud: filthy and blood-spattered, but unharmed, and still grinning from ear to ear.

‘You did it,’ he says.

Kai shakes his head.

His father smiles and ruffles his hair. ‘Alright, have it your own way. We did it. We won…’

Kai rallies himself. ‘How many did we lose?’

‘Thanks to your advance warning, not that many. So far, I know of fourteen men and three horses dead, and a score or so of fighters badly injured. There will be weeping in both villages tonight, and the healers will be busy. But it could have been worse. So much worse.’

‘Prisoners?’ Kai asks, although he already knows the answer.

‘No. Not this time. Cerdig’s men made several captives and wanted to ransom them, but Arthur wouldn’t allow it. Said he’d pay the blood-price himself, and slaughtered the lot of them. I’ve never seen him so adamant.’ Llud’s voice is warm with approval. ‘And now he’s sent men to follow the escaped survivors back towards the coast, to destroy the camp and burn the ships on the shore if they can. They have orders to show no mercy. This bunch of Saxons won’t be troubling us again.’

No mercy. Kai feels a pang of grief for Ulla; he can see her now, her silver hair tumbled on the ground and the blood of her death-wound black in the moonlight.

The world is a darker place without her brilliant smile.

But maybe she is one of the lucky ones.

 

~~~

Despite his feeble protests, the blue-painted Celtic and Saxon warriors carry Kai shoulder-high through the village and into the longhouse in a rowdy, torchlit procession, cheering all the way. They give him the seat of honour – Arthur’s seat – at the feasting table. Arthur is at his right hand, Cerdig at his left; both are smiling at him as they sit down.

He is a hero.

Food and drink are set in front of him; three different women are squabbling over which one of them should bring him water for washing. Everyone wants to clap him on the shoulder or shake his hand, and already the minstrel is singing of Kai the Peace-bringer; of his great journey up the river and of how he saved them all from the invaders …

Kai hates every minute of it.

All he feels, through a fog of utter weariness, is shame and pain. He tries to eat a little, but the food has no savour, and his stomach is churning; he forces down some water, and pushes away the mead cup that someone is waving in his face.

The noise in the hall is deafening, the air hot and foul with sweat and grease and smoke. He concentrates on staying upright in his chair, but he is afraid that at any moment he will pass out, or throw up, or hit somebody, or start to scream and not be able to stop …

His hands are shaking. The knife he is holding falls to the table. Llud looks up sharply, and turns to say something under his breath to Arthur.

Arthur gets to his feet and puts a hand under Kai’s elbow.

‘Come on,’ he says in Kai’s ear. ‘You’ve had enough. Let’s get you out of here.’ He raises his voice, speaks across Kai, to Cerdig. ‘My brother needs rest. Tomorrow you and I will make a treaty that shall put an end to all conflict between our peoples. But for now, you must excuse us both. I leave you in Llud’s capable hands...’  
He coaxes Kai to his feet, and Cerdig rises also.

Kai turns to the Saxon leader; he is no longer afraid of him. He reaches out to clasp Cerdig’s right hand.

‘My lord Cerdig – will you do me the honour of taking my place?’

‘The honour is mine,’ Cerdig says formally, ‘if your leader will permit it.’

Kai looks anxiously at Arthur; perhaps he should have asked Arthur’s permission before inviting their former enemy to take what is after all Arthur’s place by rights.

But Arthur is smiling and gesturing to Cerdig to be seated in the big carven chair. All is well. Kai sags against Arthur’s arm, and now Llud is at his other side, steadying him through the happy crowd to the doorway of the sleeping place.

‘Go to bed and bar the door,’ Llud says quietly. ‘Both of you. Shut all the rest of us out until tomorrow …’

‘What about you?’ Kai asks. ‘Where will you sleep?’

Llud puts his good hand reassuringly on Kai’s shoulder.

‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ he says, with a smile. ‘I’m sure someone will find a place by their hearth for an old warrior – assuming he goes to bed tonight at all …’


	9. Friends

‘There,’ Arthur says, as he closes the door behind them and drops the heavy bar into its sockets in the doorposts. ‘Now you and I can be easy at last.’

The chatter and bustle of the feast outside can still be heard, and Kai is keenly aware that the woven wattle of the door and the partition wall is but a thin screen between them and the rest of the world.

They look at each other, a little uncertainly.

Arthur is biting his lip. ‘Kai …’  
‘Arthur …’

They speak at the same moment, and the tension is broken; Arthur grins, and flings an arm around Kai’s shoulders. ‘First things first,’ he says. ‘Come on …’

Arthur helps Kai to the bucket in the corner, and then across the room to his bed. ‘Kai, what is wrong? Where are you hurt? You can hardly walk.’

‘It isn’t my injuries,’ Kai says through gritted teeth. ‘It’s those damn Saxon boots I had to wear to get back here ...’

Arthur laughs, and pulls Kai’s own boots from his feet. He winces as he sees the raw and blistered flesh. ‘I know what you need.’ He fills a basin; takes the salt-box from the table and empties it into the water.

‘What are you doing?’ Kai protests. ‘Salt is precious …’

‘And so are you.’

Kai looks at Arthur, to see whether his brother is mocking him; but Arthur’s face is perfectly serious.

There is an ache in Kai’s heart as Arthur brings the basin to him, kneels on the floor and bathes his feet. Kai shudders at his touch; he hopes that Arthur will think it’s just the pain.

‘We waited and waited,’ Arthur says softly. ‘We paced the floor, Llud and I – and then we went out searching …’ He swallows hard. ‘And at first light we found your cloak caught in the rocks.’

The piebald cloak, Kai now realises, is spread over the foot of Arthur’s bed. Arthur looks up, and sees Kai looking. ‘Lenni mended it for me,’ he says, his voice tight with unshed tears. ‘Llud was all for burning it, but I couldn’t bear to. It was the last scrap I had left of you...’

Arthur wipes his eyes with the back of his hand; picks up a cloth, and dries Kai’s feet with elaborate and tender care. He settles Kai comfortably on the bed, leaning against the dressed hide that hangs at the bed-head. Then he adds, ‘We both cried all night.’

He sits abruptly down on the edge of the bed beside Kai, and buries his face in his hands.

Kai leans forward, flinching as a cut on his shoulder re-opens; but it is as nothing to the pain in his heart. He strokes Arthur’s hair; rests his cheek against it; murmurs soft words of reassurance and love.

‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur says at last. ‘I didn’t think. I should have known you wouldn’t want to go back to that Saxon village of all places …’

‘It’s my own fault.’ Kai puts his arm around Arthur, holding him close. ‘I was too proud to say so. Too stubborn to ask you to leave me behind. And too ashamed of being afraid.’

‘I accused you without just cause,’ Arthur says. He sits up, and looks into Kai’s face. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of.’

Kai can’t meet Arthur’s eyes, and his throat feels tight as he forces himself to answer, ‘Think no more of it. It is forgotten.’

‘You are too good to me,’ Arthur murmurs, and turns to kiss Kai very briefly on the mouth. ‘I don’t deserve you …’

Kai shakes his head helplessly, his heart pounding.

How true Arthur’s words are …

Restored to practicality once more, Arthur takes Kai’s shirt off and helps him to wash; as he works, dabbing a wet cloth cautiously around the edges of the injuries on Kai’s back and shoulders, Kai can feel the tension in his hands. Once or twice Arthur draws breath to speak, and then thinks better of it.

Finally he says: ‘Kai?’

‘Mmm?’ Kai knows what’s troubling Arthur.

‘That man …’ Arthur says, diffidently. ‘The one I killed today. Who was he?’

Kai hunches his shoulders; wraps his arms tightly around his body. ‘I don’t want to talk about him. He’s dead. There’s an end of it.’

‘But it’s not the end, is it?’ Arthur puts a hand on Kai’s knee and looks into his face. ‘What did he do to you, Kai?’ he whispers. ‘What did he do, to make you look like that …?’

Kai can’t bear it. He pushes Arthur’s hand away and says shortly ‘Tortured me.’   
Then he gets abruptly off the bed and turns to leave, barefoot and half-naked and broken.

‘Kai – where are you going?’ Arthur’s voice is sharp with concern as he follows Kai to the doorway; lays a hand on his arm, to hold him back.

‘Back to the hall,’ Kai mutters, not looking up. ‘I’m not fit to be in the same room as you.’ He shakes Arthur’s hand off him and reaches for the bar across the door.

Arthur pushes in front of him, blocking his way. ‘No. Don’t go. Not, at least, without telling me why.’

Kai chokes. ‘I can’t.’

‘Kai.’ Arthur puts a firm hand under Kai’s chin; forces his brother to meet his eyes. ‘You can. And you will. That’s all I ask of you. And then, if you still wish to leave, I promise you that I will not stand in your way.’

Kai’s hands drop weakly to his sides. He finds he is shaking; he allows Arthur to lead him back to the bed.

Leaning exhaustedly against the wall once more, with Arthur sitting beside him, Kai tells the tale of his wanderings, from his abrupt departure to his imprisonment in the Saxon camp. He recalls Ulla’s ordeal, and her courage and spirit; and finally he can shed the tears for her that he’s been holding back, as he tells Arthur how she met her death as she helped him escape.

Then he closes his eyes and makes himself speak of his own torment, or as much of it as he can bear to recall: beyond tears now, sunk in a deep well of shame that seems colder and darker than the ocean.

Arthur listens in silence; and when Kai is finished, he says only, ‘They violated you…’ in a low voice that vibrates with cold fury.

Kai nods miserably. ‘Both of them.’

Then he heaves a painful breath, and adds the worst of it.

‘And I told them – before they even … when they were beating me. I told them where the village was. I know I did.’

‘But you said they already knew,’ Arthur says, puzzled. ‘From the spy at the port. So whatever you said would have made no difference.’

Kai is not comforted. ‘I was weak. I betrayed you …’

The misery that has been eating away at him, ever since his interrogation in that stinking cabin, now overwhelms him. He cannot see how Arthur will ever trust him again. Stiffly, he clambers off the bed and limps to the door.

But he no longer has the strength even to lift the bar. A sob of hopelessness escapes him.

Then Arthur is standing behind him; Arthur’s hand is on his shoulder, turning him round; Arthur’s arms pull him close.

‘I should have let them kill me,’ Kai sobs. ‘I should have let them –’

‘Ssshh,’ Arthur says, stroking Kai’s hair. ‘It’s all right. I’m very glad you didn’t. And I’m going to make you glad of it too …’

Kai has no fight left in him. He leans against Arthur, breathing him in, laying his head on his brother’s shoulder and feeling him trembling at the contact; then to his surprise he feels the hot swelling hardness of Arthur’s erection against his thigh.

‘You still want me…’ Kai says, wonderingly.

Arthur’s body tenses, and he takes a step back. ‘I’m sorry.’ His face is turned away; he sounds embarrassed. ‘I couldn’t help it. But I know this isn’t the time. Please don’t think… that it’s because of what you’ve just told me…’

‘No, I don’t think that. Of course not.’ Kai reaches out to lay a hand against Arthur’s cheek. ‘But knowing what you know, I’m surprised that you can bear to touch me.’

Arthur lets Kai pull him close again, and murmurs, ‘Knowing what I know, I’m surprised that you can bear to let me …’

Kai snorts, and chokes. The last shred of his resistance is swept away; his body melts into Arthur’s arms and he whispers fiercely, ‘Let you? I never want you to stop.’

When they break apart, their faces wet with tears, Arthur leads Kai back to his bed again, and turns back the covers for him.

‘Can’t I come in with you?’ Kai asks.

‘Yes, of course.’ Arthur’s smile is like the sun coming out. ‘And welcome. Even if it’s just to sleep…’

‘I’m not going to be up to much else,’ Kai says ruefully. ‘One way and another, there’s not a great deal left in the barrel … but whatever there is, it’s yours.’

‘Then it’s all I need,’ Arthur says.

As Arthur strips briskly, and cleans himself, Kai sits on Arthur’s bed and watches, taking a keen and simple pleasure in the sight of Arthur’s lean body in the torchlight.

When Arthur is done, he looks up; offers Kai the wet cloth.

Kai starts to unlace his own breeches; then he hesitates.

‘Keep them on, if you’d rather.’

Arthur is looking at him with such tenderness; Kai dreads the moment when that expression will turn to disgust, or pity.

Best get it over with.

Kai lets out a reluctant sigh, and strips off.

There is a shocked silence as Arthur gazes at Kai’s nakedness. Kai wants to grab the sheepskins from the bed to cover his shame, but he forces himself not to.

‘Kai …’ Arthur whispers, horrified. ‘Those are … the marks of teeth …’

Kai nods, his throat too tight to speak.

He takes the cloth from Arthur and turns away.

~~~

It’s warm under the blankets, and Arthur is holding Kai very close, one hand stroking his back and the other wrapped very gingerly around his cock, caressing it slowly and lightly.

Kai’s erection is rising. Arthur’s touch gives him a deep thrill of joy despite the throbbing pain of the bruises – and worse – inflicted by his captors. He has Arthur’s firm shaft in his own hand, thrusting against his fingers, already wet and slippery at the tip. He squeezes a little harder and Arthur moans softly.

A roar of drunken merriment comes from the hall outside, and many voices are raised in song; they hear Cerdig’s voice above the din, calling for quiet, and then Llud’s, rather louder than it need be: ‘Let ‘em sing. My sons can sleep through anything…’

Kai snorts. ‘Good old Llud. If he really thinks we’re sleeping, I’ll eat my left boot.’

Arthur chuckles, and tightens his grip just a little, sending a shudder through Kai’s body.

Kai wants this so much; has missed Arthur so desperately; but it hurts. His torn and abused body has not yet had time to heal, inside or out. He writhes, and whimpers, blindly seeking the comfort of Arthur’s mouth on his own, and even as Arthur pulls away and whispers, ‘Kai? What’s wrong?’ Kai comes, in a rush of bliss mingled with agonising spasms deep within him.

He lets go of Arthur to clutch frantically at himself, trying to ease the pain; covering his mouth with his hand when he cannot keep silent.

And Arthur is carried along with him, biting the pillow to muffle his groans, but Kai is too sunk in his own discomfort to spare a hand to help. He feels the shudders as Arthur reaches his peak, and the sudden warm wetness of Arthur’s spill against his belly.

And he feels Arthur’s distress; it hurts him more than his own.

They lie side by side, breathless and spent.

‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur whispers brokenly.

Kai reaches for Arthur’s hand. ‘Don’t be. I wanted it. Wanted you. More than anything in the world.’

‘But I hurt you. It was too soon. I shouldn’t have …’ Arthur breaks down in tears, and Kai finds to his surprise that he is the stronger.

‘Arthur,’ he says, putting both arms around his beloved, revelling in the warmth and the weight and the nearness of him. ‘You may have hurt my body, but you’ve healed my soul. I thought you’d never want to take me to your bed again …’

It takes a little while for Arthur to be comforted, but Kai is encouraging and patient. His leader has had much to bear these past few days. Kai caresses Arthur’s back, easing the tense muscles with firm fingerstrokes, and murmuring nonsense into his ear, and when Arthur’s sobs finally cease he fetches a rag to dry them both of tears, sweat and anything else besides …

Arthur falls exhaustedly asleep as soon as Kai has finished. Kai stays awake for a while, just listening to Arthur’s breathing above the sleepy chatter still coming from the hall.

It is good to be home again.

~~~

Kai wakes to find Arthur already gone from his side. He is ravenously hungry, and his head has cleared although he’s still weary, stiff and sore, various muscles protesting as he rolls over and sits up.

It must be late morning: the sun is glimmering through the eaves of the thatch. A murmur of conversation comes from the hall, and Kai strains to pick out Arthur’s voice… All is well. Arthur is there, and suddenly Kai is wildly eager to get out of bed and join him. Just to be able to see his face again…

Kai’s clean breeches are in the linen chest where he expects them to be, but he can’t find his blue shirt anywhere. Puzzled, he rummages through the rest of his clothes, and Arthur’s too, but it’s nowhere to be found. He loses patience and pulls on the nearest shirt to hand – an old brown one – drags a comb carelessly through his hair, and limps barefoot through the door into the hall.

‘Ah, there you are.’ Arthur’s smile of greeting is utterly dazzling. ‘We thought we’d let you sleep a while. You’d earned your rest.’ He gestures to the chair beside him. ‘Come. Sit. You’re just in time for the mid-day meal. And to witness our treaty …’

Kai becomes aware that there are many others at the table: Cerdig, and Ulm, and Llud among them. And that spread out before Arthur is a new parchment, the ink scarcely dry.

And that Arthur is wearing the blue shirt …

‘You should have woken me,’ Kai says quietly, as he sits down beside Arthur. ‘I should have been part of this negotiation.’

Arthur tenses, and looks sharply at him: an echo of their argument on the night he left.

Kai has no wish to recall that conflict.

He knows, better than anyone in the room, that despite outward appearances Arthur is tired and brittle-tempered: in need of careful handling. So Kai smiles and says mildly, ‘No matter. Such decisions are yours. And anyway I’m sure I needed the sleep more than you needed my diplomatic skills.’

He sees Arthur relax and smile back, and knows that his instincts were right.

~~~

Later that afternoon, with the treaty signed and witnessed and fairly copied by one of the village’s few scribes onto one of the village’s even fewer sheets of parchment, and with few farewells remaining to be said, Cerdig musters his men to set out for home.

On a borrowed ox-cart, the returning party will bear with them the bodies of eight of their companions: six killed in the battle and two more who have not survived the night. But despite their sombre burden, their mood is cheerful, and there is much banter and laughter between the warriors of both tribes. Many of the Saxons standing in the yard still bear faint traces of yesterday’s blue warpaint, as indeed do many of the Celts.

‘We are one people,’ Cerdig declares, tucking his copy of the precious treaty carefully inside his tunic. ‘In common cause, we have done well indeed. Long may it continue to be so.’

He clasps hands with Llud, and with Arthur, and last of all with Kai.

‘Well done,’ he says quietly. ‘Never thought I’d see the day when you and I raised our axes on the same side. I’m glad you came to me. I knew you had good reason…’

Then he coughs, and turns away, and makes some querulous complaint to Hengist; then they are marching out through the gate, the sky bright and clear above them and a fresh breeze ruffling the surface of the lake.

Arthur and Kai stand at the gate to watch them go.

Careless of who may be watching, Kai slides an arm around Arthur’s waist, under the blue shirt; and for once Arthur permits it.

‘It’s a new start,’ he says thoughtfully, as the last of the Saxons vanish behind the trees at the end of the causeway. ‘A new future, Kai.’

Kai murmurs agreement, savouring the smooth softness of both fabric and skin against his fingers, and hopes fervently that this is a new start for himself and Arthur too…


	10. Lovers

The moon is full tonight, and the air is warm and full of the scents of spring.  
‘Walk with me,’ Arthur says to Kai, when the evening meal is over.  
Together they take the path to the riverbank.

Arthur says nothing as they go; in the weeks since the treaty was made, he has been very quiet and thoughtful, and particularly so in Kai’s company.

Kai is concerned for him.

There has been a lot of work to do; they no longer need worry about the Saxons, but there are plenty of other enemies that threaten them, and maintaining the Celtic alliance is a complex and never-ending task. News of the peace with Cerdig was not favourably received by all, at first; Mark in particular took some persuading that Arthur was not going to gallop to the attack at the head of a Saxon army, and indeed Llud is but newly returned from a week of hard discussions in Cornwall. And their own villagers seemed to think that the war was won, and grumbled and complained about returning to their defensive duties and their training.

Arthur has many reasons to be careworn; but even so, Kai can’t help but think there must be something else.

His own injuries, at least on the outside, have healed, as have Arthur’s, and they have spent every night in each other’s arms, sometimes content just to sleep, sometimes hungry for more. Not much more: an embrace, tender kisses, gentle relief given with a careful hand. Arthur has taken Kai in his mouth once or twice; and yesterday, for the first time since their reunion, he permitted Kai to do the same for him, and for once there were no tears afterwards.

The river glitters, peaceful in the moonlight now that the floods have abated. A white owl flies soundlessly past; Arthur looks up at the stars, and heaves a sigh.

Kai puts an arm round him and they stand in silence for a little while.  
Then Arthur turns to Kai, leaning on him a little; Kai holds him and pulls him closer, sensing that Arthur is still sad.  
‘What’s wrong?’ Kai asks. ‘Please tell me. You have everything you always wanted – and yet you’re not happy.’  
But Arthur just shakes his head.

‘You should be happy,’ Kai says, planting a kiss on the top of Arthur’s head. ‘You have achieved your dream –’  
Arthur sighs, and says reluctantly, ‘But it breaks my heart that my dream should have been bought at such cost to you.’

So that’s it. Kai’s heart is wrung, and there is a lump in his throat as he replies:  
‘A price I would have paid willingly, even had I known what it would be.’  
Arthur shrugs off Kai’s arm, and backs away. ‘I will never forgive myself.’  
‘Nor I.’ Kai sighs. ‘But let us at least forgive each other, before we both sink into this river of regrets, and drown.’  
Arthur sniffs, and tries to smile. ‘Maybe we can pull each other out.’  
‘Come on, then – take hold.’

Kai takes Arthur’s hand and pulls him close again; looking into Arthur’s eyes, he is almost swept away by the depth of sadness in them. ‘I forgive you,’ he says. ‘For all of it. All the hurts you caused me… as well as those you didn’t.’  
Arthur is now weeping too hard to say anything; Kai holds him very gently.  
‘Let us look forwards, not back,’ Kai says. ‘What’s passed is gone. You cannot step twice into the same river.’

Arthur wipes his eyes. ‘I’m not letting you step into any river from now on, if I’m not there to pull you out. And I will be… I always will be… oh, Kai…’  
Kai strokes his hair, and lets him cry for a while; then he slides his hands down to Arthur’s buttocks, starting to want him, stroking and kneading with firm, loving fingers. After a while Arthur gives in and lets himself respond, the tautness in his body ebbing away as his grief is eased.

‘Arthur.’ Kai leans his cheek against the top of Arthur’s sleek head. ‘There is something I’d like to say.’  
‘You don’t need to.’  
‘No… but perhaps you need to hear me say it none the less. And I thought – when I was in the water, in the dark – I thought I’d never have the chance…’  
Arthur looks up into Kai’s face, and kisses him on the corner of the mouth. ‘What is it?’  
‘I…’ Now it comes to it, Kai can scarcely get the words out. He is trembling from head to foot. ‘I am the luckiest man in the world.’ He takes Arthur’s face between his hands and gazes at him in simple wonder. ‘I looked at all the happy faces at the table tonight – and I thought…’ Overcome, he buries his face in Arthur’s neck.

‘Thought what?’ Arthur’s voice is affectionate.

Kai draws a shuddering breath. ‘You could have had your pick of any of the young women there. Or the young men, come to that. Or from any of the other settlements under your command, all those folk who now sleep peacefully under your protection. But you chose me. I angered you, and hurt you, and I was shamed and defiled, and still you chose to take me back…’ His voice trails away.

‘And I would make that same choice again,’ Arthur says. He puts a hand under Kai’s chin; looks at him with love. ‘I know I have not always been kind. My heart has not always found it easy to follow where yours led – but your love has sustained me through the darkest night, the bitterest conflict…’

‘And now that conflict is at an end.’

Arthur sighs. ‘More Saxons will come, this year or next or the one after… and there are other enemies to fight besides those from over the sea. There is still much work to do. But I hope that there will be more nights like this. Nights when you and I can set all that aside and simply be together.’  
‘There will. I promise you,’ Kai says.

By now they are holding each other very close.  
‘My Kai,’ Arthur murmurs. ‘How could I have driven you away? I don’t deserve you...’ He is sinking in regret again.  
Kai needs to pull him out, and fast.  
‘No? Well, you’re stuck with me now. So it makes no difference either way. You might as well enjoy it.’ He lands a mock-punch on Arthur’s shoulder. ‘Look forwards, not back, remember? Now, give me your hand.’

Mutely, Arthur holds out his hand; Kai takes it and kisses Arthur’s fingertips, then his palm, afterwards holding it against his cheek; goes on to kiss the soft skin of the inside of Arthur’s wrist, and all the way up his forearm, as though Arthur’s sleeve is not there. He nuzzles into the crook of Arthur’s elbow, plants kisses along Arthur’s upper arm, across his shoulder, and so to his throat…

Arthur moans softly with longing; Kai chuckles with sheer happiness, and starts all over again with Arthur’s other hand.  
By the time he returns to Arthur’s throat, and then allows Arthur to kiss his mouth, they are both hard, and breathing fast.

‘Can we –?’ Arthur asks, trembling.  
Kai opens his mouth to make some joking reply; but when he looks at the expression on Arthur’s face, it takes his breath away, and it is as much as he can do to reply simply ‘Yes…’

Kai takes Arthur’s cloak off, and then his own, and spreads them on the springy turf. They strip each other, haste making even Arthur’s sure fingers fumble with buckles and lacings; then Kai lays Arthur down on the unfurled cloaks, gazes wide-eyed for a few moments at the sheer beauty of Arthur’s pale naked skin in the moonlight, then lies joyfully down beside him and takes him in hand.

Arthur moans, his eyes closed, and thrusts against Kai’s encircling fingers; then holds still, with an effort. ‘I – I can’t…’  
‘Ssshhh. I know.’ Kai leans over and presses his forehead to Arthur’s. ‘Let it go,’ he murmurs. ‘Let it come. You’ll be ready for more soon enough, if I know you.’  
A smile twitches at Arthur’s lips, and Kai kisses them, and again for good measure, and works his hand over the tip of Arthur’s prick.

It doesn’t take long. A couple of firm strokes, another kiss – fierce and open-mouthed this time – and Arthur is coming, spilling himself into Kai’s hands, shuddering from head to foot.  
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.

Kai brushes Arthur’s lips with his own. ‘Don’t be. Listen … we could make good use of this, if you’re ready… if – if you would permit me…’  
He is stammering in his eagerness. He can’t remember ever having desired Arthur so much; or having been so afraid that Arthur will refuse him.  
But Arthur is looking at him with love, and already he is raising himself on one elbow...

Kai withdraws his hands, cupped around their precious cargo. Arthur rolls onto his front, his face buried in his folded arms, and Kai pours what he has gathered into the cleft of Arthur’s arse, stroking and savouring the smooth curves, reclaiming this territory of joy from which he has been absent for so long.  
He reaches Arthur’s entrance; slides a fingertip around and over it. Arthur quivers under his touch, and breathes in sharply. ‘Kai¬–’

‘Sshh,’ Kai says. ‘You’re ready for this. And so am I.’  
He reaches under Arthur’s belly to coax him to his knees. Arthur’s heartbeats shake his body; Kai’s own pulse is racing.

He bends over and plants a row of kisses down Arthur’s spine, rubs his cheek joyously over the flat triangle at its base, then spreads Arthur apart and begins to lick…  
But Arthur clenches himself, and protests.

‘I haven’t bathed today. I – I’m not clean…’  
‘You’re always clean.’ Kai sits up on his heels, to give Arthur a breathing space; strokes his back in reassurance. ‘And even if you weren’t, I’d still want you. Straight from the battlefield, or the stables…’  
Arthur heaves a sigh. ‘I know. But you don’t have to do this, to prove it.’  
‘And neither do you,’ Kai says, trying to mask the desperate disappointment quivering in the pit of his stomach. ‘Believe me, I’m ready–’ he leans forward and lets his own rigid prick press briefly against Arthur ‘– but if it’s too soon for you, then let’s wait. There are other ways…’

He sits up straight again, keeping one hand on Arthur and silently holding himself back with the other.  
His heart is in as much distress as his body.  
Why does Arthur always have to be persuaded? Why can he not just believe?

It seems an eternity before Arthur replies.

‘No. It’s not too soon,’ Arthur murmurs. ‘If anything, it’s too late. I should have had more trust in you. Then all this would never have happened.’  
‘Better late than never,’ Kai says, his confidence returning. ‘Trust me now. I love you. I want you. I will never leave you. And Arthur…’  
‘Yes?’  
Kai nudges Arthur with his hardness again.  
‘Please help me. I can’t keep this up for much longer…’  
Arthur laughs, and relaxes under Kai’s hand; he moves his knees further apart, inviting Kai back in again.

With deep thankfulness, Kai lowers his head and resumes where he left off, caressing, probing, licking, until every part of Arthur’s crotch and cleft is slick and slippery and Kai’s every sense is replete with the taste and scent and texture of Arthur’s body. Only then does he begin to probe deeper, breaching Arthur with his tongue, and then with his fingers, feeling Arthur yield and soften, hearing Arthur’s breathing grow deep and unsteady along with his own…

It’s time. Arthur is open to him, and Kai can’t resist any longer. He slides himself in with a deep groan of fulfilment, taking Arthur as slowly and as carefully as his own desperate need and impatience will permit.  
And now they are one, moving together, and Kai has everything he ever wanted – except perhaps the power to stop the river in its flow, to make time stand still for a little while, so that this happiness need not end so soon.

For he knows it cannot last long. He is close, so close… Arthur moves his hips again, just a little, but it is enough to push Kai over the brink. He hears himself cry out as he comes; expecting the worst, he braces himself, but this time it’s blessedly painless.  
Afterwards Arthur pulls Kai into his arms and holds him tightly.  
They lie in the moonlight for a long time, just listening to each other’s breathing and the purl of the water as it runs heedlessly by.

At length Kai rolls over and lies prone beside Arthur: testing himself. For a second or two he feels horribly vulnerable. A shiver runs through him. Perhaps it’s still too soon…  
‘Are you cold?’ Arthur’s voice is very gentle.  
Kai shakes his head. ‘I wanted…’  
‘Ah.’ A warm hand is laid between his shoulder blades. ‘You don’t need to prove anything either, you know.’  
‘I know. And I don’t think I can let you… you know… not yet. But ¬–’ He swallows hard. ‘Would you – touch me?’  
He is trembling at the thought, but whether with longing or fear he can no longer tell.  
‘Of course,’ Arthur says simply.  
The warm hand moves further down Kai’s back.

~~~

Well, it wasn’t exactly perfect, and it hurt quite a bit, and for all Arthur’s patience and understanding Kai couldn’t bring himself to let Arthur in; but at least it was a start.

And next time, Kai tells himself firmly, it will be better.

He wraps his fingers a little more tightly around Arthur’s shaft; moves his hand in a steady, insistent rhythm. Arthur presses against him, breathing hard. Then his mouth takes Kai’s in a bruising kiss, and Kai pours into it all his love and gratitude and adoration, and works Arthur’s prick with all the experience and skill he possesses, giving to Arthur everything that he can, until Arthur gasps and shudders and his voice rings out in triumph over the swirl of the river:

‘Yes!’

 

 _And you are not alone in this  
You are not alone in this  
As brothers we will stand  
And we’ll hold your hand  
Hold your hand…_


End file.
